


these high walls, they came up short

by Faye_Reynolds



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Don't @ Me, M/M, i don't make the rules; i just make the rules, macca is absolutely parched for dr. stanley as we all are, prompt: "you astonish me", prompt: carnivale, prompt: shameless flirting, stanley has sad backstory that makes the fic a little serious, they're all doctors, uhm pls read because i love it and i had a rough day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/pseuds/Faye_Reynolds
Summary: Stephen rolls his eyes at the man’s heavy French inflection and is surprised when he hears soft laughter from beside him.Dr. McDonald doesn’t look at him, but he knows the laughter was on his part, and the idea of someone else here finding Dundy a bit too much makes him smile.Then, the other man looks at him and the smile he receives is too charming to ignore. There is an inqusitiveness in his eyes, but when they meet his own, they avert quickly.Curious.
Relationships: Alexander McDonald/Stephen S. Stanley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	these high walls, they came up short

**Author's Note:**

> please enjoy grumpy doctor and thirsty doctor ft. making fun of dundy, good friend jaemes, and sad backstory.  
> i love this pairing so much, damn.  
> oh and this isn't edited so drag me for any and all issues. ;)

Stephen was certain of one thing and one thing only: he was going to quit his job.

“When you requested I take this position, James, you failed to mention that I would be working directly with the most insufferable and loquacious man I have ever met and that includes your father.” He doesn’t mean that last part to sound so indignant, but he can’t help it. He’s spent the last six months in barely contained agony.

There’s laughter on the other line, “I didn’t _have to_ tell you much of anything, Stephen. The moment I told you a position was available, you said, and I quote, ‘I’ll take it. No questions asked.’ I’ve learned over the year not to question your decisions.”

He sighs, throwing himself into the worn, dark brown leather chair of his office, and rubs tired eyes, “You know why, James. I just didn’t expect the most difficult part of my job to be a colleague.”

“I understand why you left, but Alexander is nowhere near as terrible as you’re making him out to be, you just need to give it time. He’s one of the brightest in your field and is as much a friend to me as you are. You both have saved my life.”

He scoffs, “I’ve no time for your dramatics, _Fitzy_. I’ve known you far too long to be manipulated by you.”

“You haven’t quit, though.”

“Of course not, I’m no-,” he stops, sudden realization dawning on him, “you win, James.”

“I know. Give Alexander a chance, Stephen. I guarantee you’ll like him if you do.”

“Fine.” He responds curtly.

Stephen scoffs as they end their call.

_Unlikely._

* * *

“…and surely Mr. Nixon, our man in ten would need your consult, Dr. Stanley.”

Stephen looks up suddenly, away from the doodle he’d been drawing in his notes, to find the warm smile of his _colleague_ and open expression awaiting his answer.

He looks to James, who quirks a brow in challenge.

Stephen resolutely does not smile, but he does turn back to the other man, “Gladly, Mr. McDonald.”

The man’s smile widens to reach grey or green eyes, Stephen is sat not close enough to tell clearly, but he meets them evenly.

He ignores the rest of the table of his colleagues who stare in unconcealed shock at his _willingness_ to help.

He does not ignore, however, the smug smirk James sports as he moves on with their morning meet.

“Last order of business will be handled by Dundy.”

The Head of Radiology stands, “Very well, now you’re all aware that we’ll soon be operating at lesser capacity as Dr. Gore and some members of our trauma team will be assisting Médecins Sans Frontières.”

Stephen rolls his eyes at the man’s heavy French inflection and is surprised when he hears soft laughter from beside him. Dr. McDonald doesn’t look at him, but he knows the laughter was on his part, and the idea of someone else here finding Dundy a bit _too much_ makes him smile.

_Then,_ the other man looks at him and the smile he receives is too charming to ignore. There is an inquisitiveness in his eyes, but when they meet his own, they avert quickly.

_Curious_.

“…so Gore’s temporary leave along with all the other changes, Chief Fitzjames has a proposed a proper sendoff next month, with a mandatory fancy dress party. Like our Halloween party, there will be a motif, and it is a carnival. Detail will be emailed later today.”

There are shouts of excitement and laughter among the other board members, but all Stephen heard was _mandatory_.

He closes his eyes to reign in his annoyance, leave it to James to never miss a chance to throw a party.

“Should all dress as clowns since they’re certain to act the part.” He mutters, failing to hide his exasperation.

There’s sudden brash laughter beside him and Stephen, reticent, realizes the man beside him heard his comment.

He holds back a smile this time, though it’s been a long time since someone laughs so freely at one of his remarks besides James.

“That concludes today’s meeting, let’s go do our jobs, gents.” James declares with a sharp clap of his hands.

They all file out slowly through the two exit doors of the conference room and he’s not paying attention, looking at his phone, when he and Dr. McDonald are pushed together as they both try to exit. Their chests are pushed together and this close, Stephen can definitively tell his eyes are neither green nor grey, but hazel with specks of brown shining through. He _does not_ get lost in them so much as forget he’s meant to be moving.

“Thank you for making that meeting bearable, Dr. Stanley. You’ve quite the sense of humor. I like that.” Dr. McDonald speaks quietly and a bit breathless. Stephen has not blinked.

The other man winks before stepping to the side, their contact lost, and walking down the corridor to their department.

Stephen stands there mutely, feeling as though he’s missed something completely.

* * *

Stephen doesn’t know why he ever agreed to this. He hated consulting with patients, choosing to let the residents handle the bedside manner and he handles the important, life or death, part.

Rather, he knows _why,_ a charming smile and bright eyes that had been distracting him for a week now, but refuses to give James the unknown satisfaction of the answer.

Still, he’s seconds from walking out, consult be damned, as he’s been waiting in silence for ten minutes waiting for his primary physician to arrive.

“Hello, Craig! How’re we feeling today?” A familiar voice cries out as Dr. McDonald walks into the room, not without first offering Stephen a sly wink.

Stephen’s brows draw together in confusion at the gesture.

“They’ve sent the undertaker to my room, so I guess this is it, Doc?” Mr. Nixon, a boisterous and kind man, jokes with an elbow to Dr. McDonald’s side, who laughs warmly.

Despite the barb toward him, Stephen smiles inwardly at it, he hadn’t meant to wear all black today, it just happened. Half his clothes were still in boxes anyway.

“Now, now, Mr. Nixon. There’s no way they make undertakers so severely good looking, otherwise, we’d all be rushing to the grave.” Dr. McDonald jokes as though the odd compliment and playful banter were as easy as talking of the weather, even though Stephen hates idle chatter like that.

He feels his cheeks heat but doesn’t acknowledge it, he refuses to meet hazel eyes he knows are searching for his.

There’s a sigh, “Besides Dr. Stanley here is the most proficient and talented surgeon I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”

Dr. McDonald is checking vitals and the patient's charts all the while making Stephen’s stomach flutter with sincere niceties.

“You gotta say that, doc. You work for him.”

The doctor laughs, putting his stethoscope to the patient’s chest, “ _With_ him. I work with him and you know me well enough Craig to know I am neither an unnecessary liar nor a pointless flatterer.”

“So, there is a point to your flattery?” Stephen speaks, unaware of it until two pairs of eyes are suddenly on him.

Still, he wants it to throw the other man off guard.

It doesn’t.

“Of course, Dr. Stanley. I’m determined to earn a smile from you.” Dr. McDonald winks against and if he’d see him do it to anyone else, Stephen would think he had a twitch, but he doesn’t.

He fights against the tremor in his lips and crosses his arms tighter- _definitely not flexing_.

“Keep trying, McDonald.”

The other man makes a scandalized as he finishes look over the patient who Stephen only just realizes looks absolutely amused.

“That’s _Dr._ McDonald, they’ve given me the title and everything, though I do wish you’d call me Alexander, it sounds less like a children’s song and more like the dashing and roguish specimen you see before you.”

He doesn’t smile, _resolutely does not smile,_ but he does let out a small burst of air that none but the man in front of him would deem a laugh.

“Ah! A laugh. Mr. Nixon, I am indeed one step closer.”

They high five with a shared smile and Stephen watches in amazement at the other doctor’s amiability and bedside manner despite the man beside him needed significant and lifesaving care. Care that happened to be the only reason he was in the room.

He raises a warning brow at the other man and notes a small nod of solemnity though his smile never leaves.

“Now the reason, Dr. Handsome is here is because he is whether or not that nasty tumor of yours is, in fact, inoperable.”

Stephen rolls his eyes and begins his lengthy speech on the severity of the location, but the relative ease of removal should they be able to get to it. He goes through the standard procedurals and finishes with an estimated recovery time.

“In my professional opinion, if we do not perform this surgery, you will proceed to get worse and continue to lose function to the point of nonuse.”

It is not in his experience to have patients defer _back_ to their physician after his consult, as they normally ask when they can schedule earliest, but this patient is proving unusual.

He blames Alex-Dr. McDonald.

“What is your opinion?” Mr. Nixon asks.

He expects, as with most other physicians on their floor have, to either scapegoat him or defer to the patient’s own judgment when they’re the ones that are supposed to be _telling_ their patients what to do.

Stephen may not be the warmest or personable person to his patients, but their care is held in the highest position in his mind, niceties be damned.

“I believe Dr. Stanley has just given it.” There is a severity in the other man’s profile that Stephen’s not noticed before and he finds it intriguing in a way that is far too risky.

He stares openly though, of course, the man refuses to look at him.

“Very well, I put my life in your hands, Dr. Stanley.” Mr. Nixon nods to him and he nods back.

“And what hands they are!” Dr. McDonald, now _Alexander_ in his mind, shouts with a laugh.

Mr. Nixon joins in despite the heavy decisions he’s just made and Stephen thinks they’re made for each other as he rolls his eyes and leaves.

* * *

“You’re not meant to be here!” Stephen breathes a huff of annoyance as a familiar voice comes through the intercom.

“Yet here I am.” There’s a tinny rattle to Alexander’s voice that makes him sound nervous.

“Never thought you’d lie to your patients, Dr. McDonald,” he focuses on the camera currently locating the exact position of the tumor so he can know how easiest to access it, “or do you just not have faith in me?”

The response is immediate, “Oh I have all sorts of faith in you, _Dr. Stephens,_ it’s my patients I can’t rely on.”

He’s about to ask what the other man means when his patient is fully sedated when he finally locates the tumor.

“Ah!” He keeps the sightline clear as the riskiest and most technical part of the surgery is ahead of him.

His team is silent except for confirmation of tool or equipment exchanges, as he demands. He’d gone through far too many people his first month here and now he knew he had the best the hospital had to offer.

He hadn’t been lying when he told Mr. Nixon that extraction was the easiest part.

In less than an hour, the tumor is removed, and he impresses himself with the time.

“Goodsir, please close the patient. I am invested in this man’s life and will be noting every suture.”

The man nods, as serious as Stephen but far more outwardly warm and pleasant than any surgeon he’s ever met. Stephen knows he will make an impressive and successful surgeon and physician, otherwise, he would have never step foot in his O.R.

He doesn’t realize he’s smiling as he exits to the washroom until it drops when he sees Alexander still standing by the intercom, his own smile in place and Stephen thinks the man probably sleeps with a smile on his face.

“Do you always annoy the surgeons you work with?” He asks as he shreds the guards and gloves and places them in a biohazard bin.

“Only the devilishly handsome ones with incredible skill.”

Stephen is still riding the high of surgery and allows himself to indulge in an open laugh.

“You’re shameless.” He remarks as he moves to the sinks to wash up.

“Oh, _Stephen_ , you have no idea.” Alexander winks again and _saunters_ out the door without another look back.

Stephen vehemently tries not to enjoy the view and fails.

* * *

“He’s even more insufferable now than he was before!” Stephen shouts, pacing uncharacteristically in James’ office.

“I’m not sure wha-,”

“Since that surgery on his patient three weeks ago, he’s done nothing but torment me.”

There’s a knowing smirk on James’ lips but he humors one of his oldest and dearest friends.

“May I ask how?”

“There are millions of things, but the worst among them? He brings me coffee or tea before rounds, he sits with me at lunch though I’m not sure how he knows, he’s asked for three consults because of my ‘impressive skill’,” he places air quotes around the last two words despite knowing Alexander meant what he said, “He is constantly asking my opinion or expertise or asking me about my day, he won’t stop smiling or winking at me no matter how many times I ask him to stop, and he. keeps. calling. me. Stephen.”

He throws himself onto the couch in James’ office and stares at the ceiling in the most dramatic fashion possible.

“Can I ask how all this is making you feel?”

Stephen rubs his eyes harshly, James’ shorts stint as a psychiatrist coming out, but still answers because he has to talk this out rationally.

“ _Good_ …I-I mean…I’m not sure, it’s more than that.”

“How so?”

He sighs, he’s not felt this way in so long he can’t manage to articulate it or even remember how to. Since the passing of his wife, he never thought or even imagine finding someone else, not when he had to raise Lucy on his own. But now? Well now, Lucy was living on her own, going to medical school like her father, and didn’t need him as much. Now, he might _consider_ such a thing. Now, it was more a possibility than ever.

But something was still holding him back.

“I don’t know if it’s deserved.”

He lets out a harsh breath that is half a sob.

James sits beside him on the couch and grabs his hand firmly.

“What happened before you came here has no bearing on who you are, Stephen. Doctors make mistakes, they’re human and fallible and despite being fired, we know, _we all know_ , you played no part in the death of that boy. He was beyond care when he arrived and you did everything properly,” he watches as tears, unwelcome but necessary, begin to flow down his friend’s cheeks but continues, Believe me when I say there was no hesitation or worry about you working here and since you’ve arrived everyone has admired and aspired to your work and professionalism, but they also want to know you. Goodsir has not stopped asking about you since your first day and the other department heads want to start a weekly dinner. We’re much smaller than where you worked in the city and we rely on one another here like a family, and now that includes you.”

James squeezes his hand tighter, knowing how difficult it is for Stephen to hear about himself. He knew his friend better than anyone else here and knew how much he deserved to be respected, liked, and _loved._ His tragedies may have been personally hardened him to the outside world, but anyone who knew him knew he was caring, attentive, witty, and passionate.

“I know how hard it is for you, but you deserve to let yourself be happy. Wherever you discover it, however you find it, or _whoever_ can do so, give in to it, Stephen. You’ve more than earned it and now, more than ever, deserve it.”

Stephen wipes harshly at the fresh and dried tears, sniffles harshly, and clears his throat before settling into contemplative silence.

James stands and heads for his door to give Stephen the time alone he knows he needs. Stephen has never felt so grateful to have such a long-lasting and meaningful friendship in his life.

He pulls the door open, but quickly turns back to add, “Oh and Stephen?”

He looks up and nods for his friend to continue.

“Alexander is only like that toward you and no one else,” he winks, “do with that what you will, my oblivious friend.”

Stephen sighs and leans back against the couch suddenly exhausted, but even more confused than he was when he burst into the office.

Despite his melancholy, those last words make him do something he didn’t expect.

He smiles.

* * *

_This is going to go horribly._

That is the only thought coursing through his head as he approaches the hospital for the party.

It’d been nearly a week since his meltdown in James’ office and he’d hid mostly in his office with the light off to avoid Alexander.

He needed time to think everything over and knew that if he even tried to broach any conversation with the other man, it would end in disaster.

Now, though, he feels steady and content in a way he has in a long time. The disguise of a foolish costume also helps to make it easy to talk, since he already looks the part.

He nods at several attendings and chair heads who look both surprised and _happy_ to see him there. He chats with James, dressed in a lavish white lace dress, and is unsurprised to see Francis in a dark black tuxedo with a white mask covering half his face. Dundy is dress in a commercialized Hawaiian shirt and tan cargo shorts despite it being midwinter.

“It’s all about the waves,” is all he receives in return when he asks what inspired the costume.

Stephen decides he will never understand the man who James once described as ‘genius.’

He heads toward the makeshift bar and pours himself a modest drink. He looks out to the lively party and notes the other costumes. Several others went with group costumes, and he notes a few generic characters, Hodgson is dressed as something so obscure he looks out of place, and Dr. Goodsir dressed as a giant crab.

The sight of it pulls such sudden laughter out of Stephen he doesn’t recognize it himself.

“If you’re not careful, one might mistake you for having a good time.”

The voice beside him doesn’t startle him so much as surprise him. He takes a large drink to steel himself for this conversation.

He turns to find Alexander dressed almost exactly as he is, only he didn’t wear the familiar red nose, and before he can’t comment the other man crosses his arms in anger. It would be intimidating if the man weren’t (1) dressed as a clown and (2) completely charming.

“I can’t believe you stole my costume.”

Stephen bites his lip to keep from laughing again, “To be fair, I believe the clowns were my suggestion.”

Alexander opens his mouth to counter then slams it shut when it seems he realizes his mistake.

“Well…shit,” he sighs, “suppose you’re right.”

The sudden dejected acceptance of defeat is too cute for Stephen not to fully enjoy.

He smiles, brightly and directly at Alexander, who he concluded the morning after he was James’ office, was as impressive and handsome as the man claimed him to be. He also concluded that he was willing to lean into or indulge in whatever seems to be happening between them.

The man doesn’t look pleased though, more put out.

“Of course! The moment I’ve not done anything, you _choose_ to smile. **You astonish me!** ”

Alexander drops his hands to his sides in disappointment and Stephen, _kindly_ , takes pity on him.

He steps forward and leans down to whisper hotly, “If you let me, I’ll show you just how astonishing I can be.”

He doesn’t miss the shock and blush he receives from the other man and smiles again, a bit smug but rightfully so.

"It's about time you caught on, Stephen. Thought I was going to have to be naked upon your desk for you to understand." The other man doesn't so much as stop his foot, but the pout is enough to imply that.

Stephen wishes to kiss that pout until it's reddened and puffy.

"I hope that doesn't take the offer off the proverbial table." He still can't stop smiling and it feels so exhilarating to be this way with someone again. 

Alexander turns to him with nothing but heat and amusement in his eyes. It’s a heady look to take and Stephen drinks it all in.

“You’re shameless, Dr. Stanley.” He remarks, nothing but desire in his thick accent.

“You’ve no idea.” He winks and turns to toward his office at the back end of the hall.

He hears footsteps behind him and doesn’t need to look behind him to know who it is, the squeaking of the accurate clown shoes does that for him.

He laughs to himself despite the exciting nerves that have his heart racing.

His last thought before nothing but _Alexander, Alexander, Alexander,_ is that it was about time he put his desk to use.

And with the way Alexander pushes him against the door once it shuts, he has no doubt that it will certainly get broken in.


End file.
